


all afternoon (in love)

by teddyaltmeme



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Chris’ curly hair destroys me also sorry I didn’t include more abt his magnum dong, Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, I guess there’s a lil jimbo/kev if u squint, M/M, Oral Fixation, Praise Kink, Sexting, comfort sex? sort of, we’re all sad that Kevin is gone tm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddyaltmeme/pseuds/teddyaltmeme
Summary: Brady has absolutely no clue how he feels about Chris; it’s not the hero worship he felt with Mac, and it’s definitely not the best-friendliness he feels for Kevin or Jimmy. It’s something else, something easy and warm, something he hasn’t felt before and can’t quite decipher. He likes it, he likes Chris a lot.





	all afternoon (in love)

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically just a post Kevin trade incoherent spicy mess bc I was and still am sad abt it ! also skjeider is deeply underrated so had to fix that.  
> I’m aware this most likely a disaster since I wrote it over multiple 5ams but ! hope u enjoy anyway !!
> 
> title is p much from a song by the vaccines of the same name !! very good bop but other than the title not really relevant

Brady’s playing well, he knows he is- hell, the whole team is playing well. He wishes they weren’t, though, playing well makes it seem like they don’t need Zucc- that they don’t need Hayesy.  
He knows it’s the opposite, at least for him it is. Brady’s never been good at any emotion that isn’t positive, he just pushes it to the back of head or leaves it on the ice. He’s only playing well because he’s upset. He’s more than upset, actually, but he doesn’t know a better word. For once it’s not enough, it follows him from the rink all the way home, and all the way back in the morning.  
Brady’s only felt this bad once before, when Mac got traded, and he still doesn’t know how to deal with it. But Jimmy’s feeling it too this time, worse probably; he and Kevin had known each other forever, Brady only had three years with him.  
So the two of them suffer together, they watch movies all night on Brady’s couch, or sleep side by side in Jimmy’s bed. It’s probably a bad idea to spend so much time together when they’re like this; feeding off of each others sadness, but whatever, it’s all they’ve got. Most of the other guys are used to it by now, and none of them loved Kevin the way Brady and Jimmy did.  
Brady’s eaten more ice cream this past week than he’d care to admit, without Kevin there to steal some, and Jimmy too in his own head to reprimand him.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and decides he needs to do something. Go somewhere. See someone outside of practice that isn’t Jimmy.  
His first thought is Buch, but he doesn’t know if he can deal with his energy right now.  
Second thought is Mika, but Brady’s always been kinda intimidated by him, and he just wants calm.  
So, third thought, Chris.  
Brady has absolutely no clue how he feels about Chris; it’s not the hero worship he felt with Mac, and it’s definitely not the best-friendliness he feels for Kevin or Jimmy. It’s something else, something easy and warm, something he hasn’t felt before and can’t quite decipher. He likes it, he likes Chris a lot.

So he turns up at Chris’ apartment unannounced, takes the long way round and picks up some snacks.  
When Chris opens the door he looks little surprised and a lot sleepy, happy though.

‘Skjei,’ he smiles, runs a hand through his messy curls. The flex of his muscles make it glaringly obvious that he’s not wearing a shirt. It’s not weird, is it? He’s seen Chris shirtless a hundred times before, but it’s always in the locker room and the change of context changes something. He looks so soft, Brady’s heart does something weird in his chest. ‘...What’s up, you get sick of Ves?’

‘Uhhh.... I brought snacks?’ Good one, Brady, that’s definitely an explanation. He holds up the bag, he doesn’t really know what’s in it if he’s being honest, he’s just sort of grabbed anything he could carry.  
It’s whatever, Chris eats everything and Brady isn’t in the mood to care.

‘You’re a blessing you know that,’ Chris ushers him inside. He’s been here before, but it’s different without the rest of the boys, it seems so much more domestic. ‘I was getting hungry,’ 

‘You’re always hungry though,’ 

‘You’re not wrong, buddy,’ Chris smiles at him like it was a clever observation, and not just common knowledge, ‘I’m gonna go put a shirt on, why don’t you be a good boy and fix some popcorn, huh?

_Good Boy._

It short circuits Brady’s brain for a second, if he’s being honest he’s not entirely sure what Chris asked him to do, but he can guess.

Contrary to popular belief, Brady isn’t a complete idiot; he knows he has a thing about praise. It makes him feel good to be good. 

Chris is back in a couple minutes, quiet enough that Brady flinches when he speaks;

‘Smells good,’ he remarks, making his way to the couch and flopping down. Brady pretends he’s not sad that’s Chris isn’t shirtless anymore. ‘What d’you wanna watch?’ 

‘Whatever,’ and Chris puts some random rom-com on- Brady doesn’t catch it’s name before it starts playing.

Brady’s not quite sure why he goes straight for the floor by Chris’ feet rather than the couch beside him, habit he supposes; he used to sit like this with Jimmy and Kevin, letting Kevin play with his hair while they watched movies or leaning against Jimmy’s leg as he and Kevin destroyed each other at mario kart. He just feels better on the floor, like that’s where he’s supposed to be.

‘Brady,’ Chris half laughs as he nudges Brady’s crossed legs with his feet, ‘whatcha you doin’ down there, buddy?’

With his head tilted backwards, looking up at Chris, it’s hard to tell what emotion is on his face, if any. He doesn’t sound weirded out, though- which is good because Brady is only now realising that this is probably weird- just a little... concerned, maybe?

‘sitting?’ Is all Brady can think to say, which, judging by the quirk of Chris’ brow, is not the right answer.

‘Jimmy not let pets on the furniture?’

It’s just a stupid joke, but it makes Brady flush anyway, it’s embarrassing. 

‘it’s comfy,’ he means it as an argument but it comes out as more of an apology- because he decides now that it’s better for the both of them that he just sits on the couch like a normal human being.

Brady tries to stand but a hand on his shoulder pushes him back down, it’s warm and firm and Brady can feel himself get hotter- it’s hard to chalk it up to pure embarrassment now but he doesn’t want to think about the other possibility.

‘Stay there,’ It’s harsh, commanding, and Brady feels like he’s running a fever, but it’s short lived;  
‘if you want- I mean- I don’t mind, kid,’

So he stays there, tucked right by Chris’ feet, of course he does. 

It only takes around 20 minutes before he gets a little too comfortable with the situation, shifting his lean from the couch to the side of Chris’ leg, resting his head on Chris’ thigh.  
And Chris just lets him; doesn’t even question it. The opposite, really, he laces his fingers through Brady’s hair, playing with it gently.  
Brady can’t help the sigh that escapes, he really feels like he’s melting now, like he could just sink through the floor. He definitely can’t help the little moan that comes when Chris tugs a little harder. 

‘You’re such a good boy...,’ Chris whispers, only just loud enough to make out, ‘...you’re so good- that’s why we kept you,’

That hits him hard, like a punch to the gut. He’s not sure if Chris knows about his Praise Complex TM (or whatever Jimmy calls it), but he wouldn’t be surprised if he did, he’s never been great at hiding it and Chris is a smart guy.

For a while it stays at that; Chris’ hand in his hair, Brady trying his best to focus his attention on the movie and not the tight feeling in his stomach. But despite his best efforts, Brady soon gets fidgety. Chris has excellent restraint, does a very good job of ignoring Brady’s restlessness. Something must change, though, because all of a sudden his fingers aren’t in Brady’s hair; they’re pushing at his lips.  
Brady- because he is, like Chris said, a good boy- opens his mouth and let’s Chris’ slip them in. They press down on his tongue and Brady likes the way it makes him gag a little too much.

‘Sit still for me, ok?’ Chris sounds so completely unaffected by the whole affair that it makes Brady wonder if it’s even happening or if he’s just gone insane.  
But he hums his affirmation around Chris’ fingers anyway.  
He’s entirely too aware of the spit collecting in his mouth to bother with the tv anymore; can feel it about to spill, dribble down his chin, and the idea of it is equally arousing as it is humiliating. He thinks he must look gross: his hair is definitely all out of place, he’s almost certain his cheeks are flushed bright pink, there’s tears welling in his eyes, and he’s drooling.

‘Look at you,’ Chris mutters, pulls his fingers out and runs them through the spit on Brady’s chin before wiping them dry in his hair, ‘you look like such a mess- disgusting,’

He doesn’t want to unpack why that feels just as good as the praise does so he just focusses on the heat of Chris’ thigh through his sweats instead.

‘You know, we all thought you had a thing for Kevin and Jimmy,’ Chris’ tilts Brady’s head back until he can look straight in his eyes, they’re already so dark and doe-y, that blown wide with lust they almost seem to block out his scleras. The hand on his jaw is tight and the angle hurts his neck but it’s worth it to see Chris’ face, he looks like he wants to eat Brady alive.

‘No- I- it’s just you, just you, only you,’ Brady fumbles on the words as they leave his mouth too fast, they surprise him; it’s true, of course, he’s always known it but this is the first time he’s ever admitted it to himself, let alone Chris. ‘It’s only ever you,’ 

Brady’s not too sure why it’s Chris, though, maybe it’s because he’s big and strong and kind and funny- he knows exactly how to make Brady laugh, even when he doesn’t feel like it- and wicked good at hockey. He’s really really smart too, even if it doesn’t seem like he is at first; he knows like five languages and can define any word you throw at him, and Brady’s is, admittedly, pretty dumb so that’s, well, it’s very impressive to him. Chris is also ridiculously attractive; his dark curly hair, his dimples, his crazy intense eyes, and the little crinkles he gets around them when he smiles, how expressive his face is, his hands, god his hands, his arms- his whole body.

Ok, so maybe Brady does know why it’s Chris, and it’s really just because Chris is Chris.

‘Christ, I love your voice, Skjeisy,’  
Brady’s heard that one before, he knows objectively that he has a nice voice; it’s low and soft and his minnesota accent is pretty heavy, people have told him it sounds safe, sounds comfortable. He’s also been told it’s even better when he’s like this- filtered through his lust until it’s even lower, even softer, accent even heavier. He knows it gets gravelly, too, sort of rumble-y and hoarse.  
But coming from Chris it seems to mean more, carry more weight, because it pushes this little whine past his lips that makes him die of embarrassment.  
‘...’Should speak more,’

‘I- thank you,’ It comes out way too breathless, and maybe it’s a kind of stupid thing to say in context because Chris lets out this little laugh that makes Brady feel stupid- in the best way. 

‘Y’know Mika would _kill_ to see you like this,’ He basically purrs it as he goes back to petting Brady’s hair, ‘any sane person would; you’re so pretty, you’re so _perfect_ ,’

Brady groans; pushes back against his hand, desperate for more contact, for more feeling, more anything.  
Chris definitely knows about the praise thing. It’s like he knows exactly how to get under Brady’s skin; like he knows exactly what makes him tick. 

‘...Mika?’ Brady asks when Chris’ words fully process, why would Mika care- Mika doesn’t care about him, he’s always so cold and lofty. ‘-wh,’

‘He talks about you sometimes,’ Brady really doesn’t understand how Chris sounds so collected, is this doing nothing to him? ‘He wants you down on your knees- he’s not gonna like that I got you there first,’

Brady isn’t entirely sure he has a brain anymore, he thinks it might just be wool up there, but that could just be cause all the blood in his body is currently under his belt.

‘You’re gonna tell him?’ He’s not above admitting that turns him on as much as it terrifies him. The idea of Mika wanting him is a lot, everything about this situation is already a lot and it seems to be getting more every second. He thinks about getting on his knees for Mika and it’s enough to know it wouldn’t be like this; he’s almost entirely sure Mika just wants to use him, which is hot if he’s being honest, but Chris- well he’s not sure what Chris wants but he thinks it’s not that.

‘Come up here,’ Chris half-commands half-suggests and Brady scrambles onto his lap at what feels like the speed of light.

‘Yeah, ‘m gonna tell him how good you’re being for me,’ Chris hums, and now that they’re sitting like this Brady can tell it’s affecting him too, he can feel Chris’ hard on pushing at his thigh. _Big_ \- is all Brady can think. ‘Gonna tell him how ruined you look,’

He feels far too big for his skin right now, all his clothes are too tight and confining- _why did he wear jeans_ \- and he just wants. Brady’s not even sure what he wants, just that he wants it. He kind of feels like he’s about to cry because it’s too much, it’s way too much, and at the same time it’s just not enough. So he just sort of whines and tucks his head into Chris’ neck. God, nothing’s even happened, and he’s already like this. He’s never been this bad before, he’s always been sort of submissive; kinda needy and desperate and easily wound up- Trouba can vouch for that. But this is bigger than that, it’s worse than it ever got with Jacob. 

‘You okay, kid?’ Chris tilts his head so his cheek presses into Brady’s hair.

Kid. _Kid_.  
Why is that hot, it shouldn’t be right? It is though. Chris is pressing all these buttons Brady didn’t even know he had.  
Brady shivers when Chris slides his hands underneath his shirt, they’re cold against his skin and they feel so big as his deft fingers trace little, soothing circles on Brady’s back. He takes a deep breath before he answers, trying to gather himself a little, but it doesn’t really help cause he’s just breathing in Chris. He smells clean, like fancy body wash that’s probably scented like campfires or something else good and manly, but underneath there’s something uniquely him that Brady wishes he could breath in forever.

‘ _...please_ ,’ Brady sighs, so quiet that Chris knows he wouldn’t have heard it had Brady not been so close to his ear. ‘ _...please- just..._ ’

He can feel the heat of Chris’ breath as he exhales- air grazing Brady’s ear. It’s grounding in a way, but only in the sense that it blocks out his ability to think of anything other than how weirdly intimate it is. 

‘Maybe we should tell him right now,’ Chris smirks- or at least Brady thinks he does, not that he can actually see with his head pressed firmly into Chris’ neck- as he reaches one hand down to Brady’s waist; unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. The release of pressure is good, but it’s cut with the fact that Chris stops there, hand instead reaching to Brady’s pocket and fishing out his phone. ‘maybe we should _show_ him,’

Brady whines when Chris presses the edge of the phone into his thigh- partly because it sort of hurts and partly because there’s a hot spike of shame straight to his gut when he realises that he wants Mika to see him like this; broken down to his basics.

‘You wanna show him how good you’re being for daddy, huh?’ 

The daddy thing- well, it’s not something he ever thought he’d be into, in fact he’d made fun of Kevin for saying he thought it was hot- but the way Chris say’s it sparks something in Brady and all of a sudden it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

‘ _Y-yes...daddy,_ ’ he mumbles into the junction between Chris’ neck and his shoulder, before sitting up and shuffling back a little on Chris’ thighs.  
He doesn’t object when Chris takes hold of his hand, manoeuvring it until he can use Brady’s thumb to unlock his phone, dropping it again in favour of finding a way to get as much of Brady in the camera’s frame as possible.

‘Say ‘hi, Mika’,’ Chris tugs at his hair with one hand, holds the phone with the other; it’s probably a weird angle since they’re still so close but he guesses it’ll do. When Chris said show, though, Brady had expected a picture- he doesn’t know if he can’t even get the words from his brain to his mouth.

It takes him too long to get anything out, apparently, because Chris’ hold in his hair tightens until it’s basically just pulling and Brady can’t help but moan.

‘H-... hi,’ he leans into Chris’ touch as his hand wanders from his hair to his cheek, opens his mouth a little so Chris can hook his thumb in. Clearly Chris has cottoned on to his oral fixation too, that’s the one Brady can’t even begin to deny; the braces sort of put an end to it, for a year or two, or at least they stopped him from sucking his thumb, but he still bites on his mouth guards and chews way too much gum. It just makes him feel _better_ to have something in his mouth- calmer. He lets his eyes flutter shut, let’s himself get lost in the feeling and that slight bitter taste. It’s the send sound that snaps him out of his little reverie- loud and synthetic- it fills him with misplaced dread; if Chris is to be trusted this is what Mika wants, right? Maybe it’s because Brady doesn’t get to see the video before it’s gone, has no control over how he looks, or maybe it’s because it’s sent from his phone, not Chris’.

‘Your hair is better when it’s messy,’ Chris casts him a quick glance, he’s still on Brady’s phone; either going through his shit or watching the little dots as Mika types a reply. ‘The other day, when your it was sticking out of your helmet- god, it was so cute, I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you underneath me,’ 

‘I would’ve- if you’d asked,’ Brady rambles, making a mental note never to style is hair again, ‘I would do anything,’

‘You always do what you’re told, don’t you,’ Chris says, finally looking back at him properly, it’s not a question, just a statement. The truth. 

Chris drops the phone next to him on the couch- still open, still on messages- Brady can sort of see himself on it; it’s too small to really tell from where he’s sat, but from what he can see, he looks more than a little destroyed. He doesn’t linger though, because Chris’ hand is back on his jaw, tilting Brady’s face back towards his and presses their lips together.  
Brady’s almost certain his brain short circuits, because when Chris teeth pull at his bottom lip he swears he can hear the windows error sound. He doesn’t exactly feel like a real functioning person right now- but he feels good. It’s nice to be out of his own head.  
The kiss isn’t the prettiest, but it might be the best Brady’s ever had; it’s hot, heavy, and messy- it’s exactly what he needs. It gets even better, though, when Chris turns his attention to Brady’s neck; soft kisses quickly turn to bites that Brady knows will leave marks. He’s always loved hickies, the subtle suggestion of ownership that comes with them, but he’s always been scared of what people would think if they saw marks like that on him. He’s not so worried now, knowing that it’s Chris who gave them to him, he likes the idea of being Chris’ too much to care.  
He lets his right hand find its way into Chris’ hair, since he’s admitting things today he’s fine saying that he’s been more than a little obsessed with Chris’ curls ever since he first laid eyes on him; they’re so perfect, so dark, and so so so soft looking, he thinks a little piece of him dies every time Chris shaves them off.  
Chris makes a soft sound when Brady gets his fingers through them, is not really a moan and it’s not really a sigh but it’s small and private, so Brady loves it regardless of what it is or isn’t - wants to hear it on repeat until he loses his hearing or dies.  
Chris slides his hands back up under Brady’s t-shirt again, running his palms over Brady’s chest, his stomach. Brady hisses out a breath when Chris’ fingers ghost over his nipples- it’s sort of like an electric shock, but better. He lifts his arms when Chris tugs at his shirt, trying to get it off. Brady’s broad, all over, basically he’s built like a fridge; it upsets him sometimes, being so big, when really he just wants to feel small- even if it’s just for a while.  
Chris makes him feel delicate, like he’s something to be careful with; something fragile.

‘I love this,’ Chris mutters, finger running over Brady’s happy trail. Brady’s never really thought about it, it’s just something he has, but if Chris loves it he’s so glad he has it. ‘ _Fuck_ \- you really are so beautiful, Brady, you know that?’

_Ding._

Chris’ hand darts out to grab the phone, it has to be Mika. Judging from the smirk that makes its way onto Chris’ face it’s definitely Mika. Chris points the camera at him again. Brady knows his horny face is a little goofy, Jacob used to tease him for it, so he tries to school into something nicer, but Chris’ tactics have grown more aggressive because this time he presses his free hand into Brady’s crotch, eliciting this sort of high pitched whine from the back of Brady’s throat that makes him want to die it’s so embarrassing. He thinks he might be crying but he’s not entirely sure, his eyes feel kind of stingy. If he is, it’s not bad crying- It’s just a lot to handle right now; he can’t keep his emotions in check. 

‘Shhh, baby, you’re doing just fine,’ Chris soothes, the heat and the weight of his hand on Brady’s dick, even over the fabric of his boxers, is perfect, ‘feels good doesn’t it?’  
And Brady can’t really do anything but nod his head and whimper. He hadn’t realised how close he actually was to the edge, but he thinks one more nudge and he might fall right off. He half-hopes Chris will catch it on film, for Mika, but he pushes that away quickly, it seems shameful to want that. As if that’s the worst thing he’s done today.  
He wants to hide again, to tuck himself back into Chris’ neck. But Chris stops him before he can lean in; the hand that was on his crotch pushing at his chest. 

‘You want to come?’ He says it so casually, like this is nothing and he hasn’t reduced Brady to a blissed out wreck.  
He nods again, breath catches when Chris’ hand returns to its place over his dick; palming at it gently. ‘Do it for daddy, yeah?’

‘..y-yeah’ 

That’s all it really takes, he just wants to be good for Chris- _for daddy_ \- so he does it, well his body does it. He screws eyes shut, mouth opening a little- one more soft oh- and he’s certain he looks like an idiot but he can’t help it. He hears a thud, which he assumes is the phone falling back onto the couch, and Chris pulls him in close, kissing him like he’s the only thing that matters- will ever matter. Brady’s still high on the afterglow, feels like all his nerves are firing at once, doesn’t really care that he just came in his pants like a 14 year old. 

Chris pulls back when he hears another ding- there’s still a string of spit connecting them and as gross as it probably should be, it makes Brady hot all over again- not that he’d really cooled down. Chris doesn’t go for the phone this time though, he just looks at Brady with his stupid intense eyes and unreadable expression. So Brady doesn’t move either- and for a minute, maybe more, they’re just at an impasse. Eventually though, Chris cracks, lets out this little laugh as he checks Mika’s text.  
‘What did he say?’ Brady asks, unsure if he really wants to know. 

‘He called you a slut,’

‘oh.. I- only for you,’ Brady sighs, taking it an excuse to get his hands on Chris. His head is empty and content and his body feels numb but he wants to make Chris feel good, so he goes for the waistband of his sweats but Chris bats his hands away.

‘Hey,’ Chris’ tone is a so gentle and warm, something about it makes Brady painfully fond, ‘that was a lot for you, ok? Go take a nap- I can take care of myself,’ 

Brady want to argue, he wants to do this for Chris but he knows he’s right, and it’s easy enough just to lay down on Chris’ couch and go to sleep.

When he wakes up later his eyes feel dry and weird from leaving his contacts in and his underwear is still disgusting, but he’s happy- he’s so happy curled up on the couch underneath some blanket he guesses Chris tossed over him after he fell asleep- _it smells like him_ \- he’s even happier when he sees Chris looking over at him from where he’s leaned against the kitchen island.

‘You wanna take a shower?’ 

Brady thinks Chris’ smile might kill him one day, but, honestly, he’d be happy about that too.

‘Yeah,’


End file.
